


don't let me cave in

by Stromesquad



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 18:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromesquad/pseuds/Stromesquad
Summary: It's been years since Dylan's spoken to Mitch...





	don't let me cave in

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of Dylan Strome/OMC
> 
> This story is told in 3 different points in time. The location of the *** indicates the time period in which the scene takes place. 
> 
> Mentions of the Raddyshes, the Stromes and the McLeods

It's been years since Dylan has spoken to Mitch. Years. But for some reason he's standing in the airport, tears sliding down his face, calling Mitch for a ride. He knows Connor's home. He knows his mom or his brothers would come get him. He could take an Uber or a Lyft. He could do any number of non-self destructive things but Dylan's never really been that good at making healthy life choices. Instead, he's just gotten off his second plane because of course, of course, he lives in a city that has almost no direct flights to Toronto, and he's calling Mitch. He's calling the guy who broke his heart years ago without ever knowing. The guy he's not really sure that time and distance have ever even let him get over.

 

Mitch answers on the second ring.

 

“Dylan?” He sounds rightfully surprised. It's been five years since they last spoke, but he answered all the same.

 

“Um, hi. Would you be able to- do you think you could um, pick me up at the airport?”

 

> ***

 

“I can't keep doing this with you, Dylan,” John says as he packs the last of his clothes into a suitcase. They weren't really officially living together but they might as well have been. Two thirds of John’s clothes lived in Dylan's closet and John was staying there even on nights when Dylan was on the road.

 

“What do you mean? What do you mean you can't keep doing this with me? I thought things were good.” Dylan wipes a tear from his cheek. “I love you,” he whispers.

 

“Oh, Dyl.” John cups his cheek. “I know you think you do. And I know you've tried. But there's someone else you love out there and it's not me.”

 

John turns back to the bed and zips his suitcase. He lifts and walks to the door. 

 

“Please don't go,” Dylan calls out.

 

John stops and turns. “I hope whoever he is loves you back someday. Or that you can learn to let go. You're a good man Dylan. You deserve to be happy.”

 

And with that, John walks out of his life. Dylan walks to the couch and collapses down. He opens his phone and his finger hovers over Mitch’s contact info. He sighs and shuts his phone off. 

 

***

 

Mitch agrees to pick Dylan up at the airport easily but it'll probably be at least an hour before he can leave. Dylan doesn't need to get anything at baggage claim, he kind of just grabbed a backpack and left. He circles the terminal a few times, not really sure what he's looking for other than the motion stopping him from completely losing it in the middle of the airport. Eventually he gets tired of it and finds a Starbucks, plops down. He hasn't slept and his eyes are dry and aching. Maybe catching the red eye was a bad idea. Scratch that, catching the red eye was definitely a bad idea. This whole entire thing was a bad idea. He has to be back in Scottsdale for locker clean out in three days. He doesn't know why he did it. 

 

Well he knows why he did it but he's not touching that with a ten foot pole.

 

He sits and sips his extra overpriced airport Starbucks and tries not to think about anything. After 20 minutes of staring blankly at the table, his phone buzzes. Mitch is on his way and should be there in about a half hour. Dylan shakes himself and finishes his coffee. He takes his time walking to the exit. 

 

When he gets outside, Mitch is waiting for him. Mitch gets out of the car and walks around, wrapping Dylan in a hug. He squeezes tight, exactly what Dylan needs.

 

“I'm so sorry. That was rough.”

 

And Dylan knows Mitch sort of gets it. Mitch has lost a Cup final but in a hard fought, one goal game seven, not swept, blown out, shut out, utter humiliation. He’ll take the comfort he supposes. 

 

“Thanks man,” Dylan says, squeezing Mitch back. It's been so long and Mitch somehow hasn't changed at all. 

 

Dylan's changed. Maybe not as much as he should have if he's being honest with himself. He's trying really hard  _ not _ to be honest with himself right now. 

 

They break apart and get in the car. The drive is silent. The walk up to Mitch's expensive Toronto apartment is silent. Mitch finally breaks it when he sits down on the couch. 

 

“Not that I'm not happy to see you but I have to ask, why me?”

 

Dylan shrugs. He knows. He knows exactly why he's here but he's not going to say out loud that he fucking hates himself, that he's punishing himself for losing the Cup, for failed relationship after failed relationship that all haven't worked out because he's still, eight years later, in love with Mitch Marner. He's not going to say it so he just shrugs and sits down on the couch next to Mitch.

 

“Movie?” Mitch asks, tilting his head to side, lopsided smile creeping across his face. 

 

“Yeah. Something mindless, please.” He sighs and leans back into the couch. 

 

Mitch turns on the TV and scrolls through Netflix. He picks a random action flick. “This good?”

 

“Yeah, perfect.”

 

Mitch turns the movie on and lets it play. Dylan tries to watch, he really does. But he ends up staring at Mitch's profile, the way the light coming in from the window catches his eyelashes, the way his lips part when he huffs out a laugh at a particularly bad sequence on screen. 

 

Dylan wants to taste those lips. He wants to take everything they have and more. He wants to take Mitch apart and eat him alive but Dylan knows he has no power here, knows he’ll be the one falling apart at the end of this. 

 

He slowly inches closer anyway, slides in until their thighs are pressed together, no place for Dylan's hand to go except to touch. Mitch turns, eyes hungry. Dylan can't say who leans in first but they're kissing. They're kissing hard and desperate and it's like fire licking up his spine, heat screaming through his veins. He slips his hands in Mitch’s and pulls. Mitch whimpers into his mouth and Dylan bites at his lip. It's messy and a little angry and Dylan is hard, so hard. Then they're falling down until Dylan is pinning Mitch to the couch, climbing on top of him, rocking into the V of Mitch's hips finding not quite enough friction. 

 

They break apart and Mitch groans, “Fuck.” His voice is completely wrecked and dripping with want. 

 

“Bedroom,” Dylan says, grinding his hips and getting just the right angle so his dick slides against Mitch's. 

 

Mitch gasps at the friction. “Yeah. Yes.” 

 

Dylan climbs off of Mitch and waits until Mitch grabs him by the wrist and drags him down the hall to the bedroom and into the bed. They kiss frantically. 

 

“What do you want?” Mitch asks, breathing hard.

 

“Fuck me,” Dylan whispers. “Please fuck me.” He knows how he sounds, needy and desperate for it. He doesn't fucking care. He wants to be full. He wants to be used. 

 

Mitch nods and reaches into his bedside. He comes up with lube and condoms. “How do you want it?”

 

“I'll… hands and knees.” Dylan strips quickly and then crawls onto his hands and knees. He drops to his elbows and lets his head drop between his shoulders. He doesn't even watch Mitch get undressed. He lets his head hang and breathes, trying to calm himself down. He feels the bed dip as Mitch climbs on behind him. 

 

Mitch rubs his lower back. “Ready?” He asks.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathes out.

 

Mitch trails his fingers down Dylan's back, between his cheeks and rubs gently over Dylan's hole. He pushes back into the touch. 

 

“Please.”

 

“Okay.” 

 

The cap on the lube clicks open and then there's the blunt pressure from Mitch's finger gently pushing in. It's been months since Dylan's been fucked. Hasn't even had the time or energy to finger himself so he's tight and he knows it's gonna take him a while to get used to the stretch but he still wants more. Wants it to hurt. Wants to feel it hours and hours later. 

 

“More,” he whines. 

 

“No,” Mitch says, quiet and gentle.

 

“Please?”

 

“God, have some patience.” 

 

Dylan sighs and resigns himself. He should have expected this from Mitch. Mitch is good and kind. He wouldn't want to hurt Dylan, will absolutely make sure he doesn't. He's not getting the bruising, crushing kind of sex his self loathing wants but this… well, it honestly might be worse. 

 

Mitch goes carefully, adding fingers only when Dylan relaxes. By the time Mitch slides his fingers out, Dylan is panting and shaking. 

“Hurry,” he whimpers, feeling aching and empty, needing to be full. 

 

Mitch places a steadying hand between Dylan's shoulder blades. “I've got you,” he says quietly, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth for a moment before pulling away. He places a hand on Dylan's hip and slides in slow and steady. Dylan adjusts to the stretch and starts squirming, trying to get Mitch to move. Dylan lets out a sigh of relief when he does.

 

It starts out slow but they pick up speed fast, Dylan pushing back on Mitch’s cock, meeting him with every thrust. He's moaning, loud and unashamed. It's not long before he feels heat pooling in his gut. 

 

“Mitch, I'm close.” Dylan groans. Mitch plasters himself to Dylan's back and reaches around. He wraps his hand around Dylan’s dick, jerking him in time with his thrusts. 

 

Dylan comes so hard he sees stars, Mitch’s name slipping from his lips. Mitch keeps his arm around Dylan, holding him upright as he thrusts erratically a few more times and then he's moaning and collapsing forward, taking Dylan down to the mattress. 

 

Dylan makes an undignified squawk at being crushed. Mitch rolls off of him, panting.

 

They lay there for what feels like hours catching their breath. 

 

“Wow,” Mitch says. Dylan rolls over to look at him. He has one arm thrown up over his head, the other trying to reach out and find Dylan. 

 

“Wow,” Dylan echos.

 

“That was…” Mitch trails off, still trying to get his breathing under control. 

 

“Really good,” Dylan finishes.

 

“Yeah,” Mitch sighs.

 

Dylan closes his eyes. He must drift off for a moment because the next thing he knows, Mitch is wiping him down with a warm washcloth that he tosses into the bathroom when he's done. Dylan starts to sit up but Mitch gently places a hand on his chest. “No, you don't have to get up. We can take a nap.”

Mitch climbs back in bed next to him and wraps himself around Dylan. Dylan shuffles back, pressing closer. This is an absolutely terrible idea but Dylan is way too weak to deny this right now. He drops off to sleep to the sound of Mitch's quiet breathing. 

 

***

 

Dylan has hated Mitch Marner with the fiery power of a thousand suns for practically his whole life but he has to admit, Mitch plays good hockey. So it's only natural that he hates him a little (okay a lot) less after they play some beautiful hockey together. There's no better way to become friends with Dylan than that. So after Mitch scores a fucking hat trick on Dylan's wing, yeah, that hate starts melting away real quick.

 

“Wanna watch a movie together?” Mitch asks when they sit together on the bus on the way back to the hotel after the game. 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dylan says, smiling to himself. He ignores the funny looks TK and Law keep shooting him. Look, Dylan knows sometimes he seems like a cranky bastard but he's like anyone else. He likes to be liked and he likes making friends. And Mitch apparently isn't so bad when you're playing with him instead of against him. 

 

Dylan’s honestly a little sleepy when they get off the bus but he's not going to not hang out with his new friend so he goes and gets changed and then walks down the hall to Mitch’s room. He's barely knocked when the door opens and there's Mitch’s bright, smiling face. Dylan thinks it's a pretty nice smile now that he's just looking and not glaring. Mitch steps aside and lets Dylan in the room. 

 

“Graham went over to TK’s room so it's just you and me for the movie,” Mitch says as he sits down on the bed. He scoots back so he's leaning on the headboard and then pats the seat next to him. Dylan takes the invitation and crawls up next to him. Mitch grabs his laptop and scoots closer. 

 

“What do you wanna watch?” Mitch asks. 

 

“Would it be weird if I said Mighty Ducks?” 

 

“That actually sounds great!” 

 

Mitch cues up the movie and they both settle in, pressed together, laptop resting on their knees. At some point, Mitch puts his arm around Dylan's shoulder. It's warm and comfortable so he burrows in just a little closer. He drifts to sleep. 

 

He wakes up with his head on Mitch's chest, Mitch shaking him gently.

 

“Hey Stromer? Dylan? Dyls?” 

 

Dylan tries to suppress a smile at the nickname. He looks up. 

 

“What time is it?” 

 

“Almost 11:00. You gotta get back for curfew.” 

 

“Thanks.” Dylan sits up, stretches and rubs his eyes. He gets up and walks to the door. “Thanks for inviting me for a movie.”

 

“Let's do it again? Tomorrow?” 

 

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

 

Dylan walks back to his room grinning, not really 100% sure why. 

 

***

 

Dylan comes awake slowly, like climbing through Taffy. He's warm and his head is resting on something moving. It takes him a second to remember that oh, yeah. He's with Mitch. He sits up quickly and slides over to put some space between them before he dares to look at Mitch who is looking up at him.

 

“Hey,” Mitch says, smiling. “Good nap?” 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan says quietly. 

 

The light coming through the window casts Mitch in gold, skin warm from time in the sun. His lashes cast shadows fanned across his cheeks. He looks so, so beautiful. Dylan aches with it. He shouldn't let himself do this, have this, but he leans in and kisses Mitch anyway, slow and sweet and soft. 

 

They kiss like that for a while, in that limbo of not asleep but not ready to get out of bed until Dylan’s stomach growls. Mitch breaks away, laughing. “Hungry?” he asks.

 

“Guess so,” Dylan shrugs. He guesses he is but he still doesn't really feel like eating. 

 

“Come on,” Mitch says, climbing out of bed. “There's a good Thai place that delivers. They have the best pork Pad See Ew I’ve ever had.”

 

“What if I don't want Thai?” Dylan says. 

 

Mitch looks up at Dylan from where he's bent down pulling on his underwear.

 

“Fine,” Dylan sighs. “I always want Thai. But we're getting spring rolls.”

 

“As if that's even a question. When have I ever not gotten spring rolls?” Mitch pulls up his underwear and tosses Dylan's to him. “Come on, let's go order.”

 

Dylan follows Mitch out to the living room. He orders Dylan’s drunken noodles with pork and beef from memory, adding in the fried dumplings Dylan loves but never lets himself have and the spring rolls. 

 

Dylan is… not surprised, which is kind of surprising. It was both easy to forget and hard not to remember the amount of love and care Mitch puts into his friendships. And even after five years of radio silence, Mitch still remembers. Even after the five years of radio silence, Mitch answered when he called. It's just, so Mitch, to stick around somehow even after being violently shoved away. 

 

Dylan lets out a quiet laugh. Mitch looks up from where he's standing at the counter and arches an eyebrow. Dylan shrugs and Mitch looks back down at the menu. When he hangs up, he grabs two beers out the fridge and hands one to Dylan. They sit down on the couch and Mitch puts on the movie they didn't really watch earlier. 

 

They're quiet for a while. They don't really talk when the food comes but as they're putting the leftovers away, Mitch turns and looks at Dylan, appraising.

 

“Are we going to talk about  this?” he asks quietly. 

 

Dylan takes a deep breath in through his nose. “About what?”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“I think that's pretty obvious,” Dylan says, hoping it's not. He won't say it. He's not putting this self flagellation trip into words. Mitch doesn't really need to know why he's here. 

 

“Dylan, please. Why did you call me? It's been so long.” 

 

Dylan takes the container of food out of Mitch's hand and sets it down. He crowds Mitch against the counter. He pushes in close and leans his head down so their lips are almost touching. 

 

“I'll show you,” he whispers before closing the gap and kissing Mitch, filthily, claiming Mitch’s mouth and taking it for his own. Mitch kisses back just as hard. 

 

They end up back in the bedroom, Dylan laying between Mitch’s spread knees sucking him down until Mitch is tangling his fingers in Dylan's hair and crying out his name over and over and over again. Dylan takes fierce pride in taking Mitch apart so thoroughly, for making the questions stop, for getting exactly what he came for which is everything and nothing at the same time. 

 

***

 

“So, I met someone,” Dylan says smiling as he walks into his and Nick’s apartment. He toes off his shoes by the door. 

 

Nick turns around and looks at Dylan over the back of the couch as he toes off his shoes by the door. “Yeah, no shit. You've been MIA for a weeks and you've been smiling a lot.” Nick replies with a laugh. “You only do this when you're getting some consistently.”

 

Dylan blushes. He knows it's true but it's never been serious before. This stopped being fun and wandered into 'something more’ territory somewhere between dates three and four and it's only gotten worse, better? from there. Dylan knows that it's soon but like, it is what it is and what it is good. Dylan is not going to question it. 

 

“This is different,” he says. “I really like this guy.”

 

Nick raises his eyebrows and studies Dylan for a moment. Dylan gets that this hasn't been his MO, like, pretty much ever but maybe he's growing up. Maybe he's like, finally moving on. Dylan shrugs.

 

“I'm happy for you,” Nick says finally. “Tell me about him.”

 

“His name's John.” Dylan smiles. “He’s a nurse. He's really funny and really nice. And like, we like the same music and he doesn't make fun of me when I suck at video games. It's just- things are really good.” 

 

“That's great!” Nick's enthusiasm doesn't seem forced which Dylan appreciates. 

 

“Thanks. I'm like obviously not telling a lot of people because I don't wanna jinx it. It's only been like a few months. I know it's kinda soon but I think I might be falling in love with him.”

 

“Wow, Stromer. That's huge!”

 

“I know. It’s- it's been a really long time since I felt this way. Since I felt this excited about someone,” Dylan says, leaving out the 'since Mitch.’ They've never talked about it but Dylan's pretty sure Nick knows. Pretty sure everyone knows honestly.

 

“I'm happy for ya, bud. Looks good on ya.” 

 

***

 

Dylan gets back to Erie from the World Hockey Challenge maybe a little worse for the wear from a fifth place finish but all things considered, he’s not as down about the loss as he usually would be. He heads to Connor’s for some much needed Best Friend Cuddles Time a few days after getting back. He always misses Connor when they’re apart. 

 

“Sorry about fifth place,” Connor says as Dylan strips out of his coat at the door. Dylan toes off his shoes and shrugs.

 

“Could have been worse,” he says. “I made a new friend.” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Turns out Mitch Marner’s not so bad when you play with him. He’s still a little shit but we’re like, friends now I guess.”

 

Connor raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You and Mitch are friends?” 

 

Dylan sighs as he plops down on the couch. He lays his head on Connor’s shoulder. “Yeah.” He smiles a little. “Wanna watch some shitty TV?” 

 

“Always.” 

 

Connor turns on the first episode of the new season of The Bachelor. Dylan pulls his feet up on the couch and burrows further into Connor’s side. He missed his best friend a lot while they were apart. 

 

“Missed you,” Dylan mumbles. 

 

“Missed you too, bud.” 

 

They watch TV like that in silence. Dylan’s phone buzzes every few minutes and he always checks and always answers. He and Mitch have kept up a steady texting conversation since they left Nova Scotia. It’s a lot of nothing important but it’s nice all the same.

 

After Dylan hits send on the maybe 15th text he’s sent in the first half of the show Connor pauses the show and nudges Dylan. “Who ya texting?”

 

“Oh just Mitch.” 

 

“You’re smiling like an idiot.”

 

“Am not.” Dylan shakes his head. It’s a bit of a childish response but, like, yeah Dylan is smiling but it’s a normal person  _ new friend _ smile. He’s pretty sure he made the same face when he first started hanging out with Connor. His cheeks heat anyway and he ducks his head a little.

 

“You absolutely are and now you’re blushing!” Connor laughs. “Oh bud, you have a crush.” 

 

“I do not! I like just barely started talking to the kid. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

 

“Oh you absolutely have a crush. You have a crush on a new boy.”

 

Dylan groans and buries his face in Connor’s shoulder. Maybe he does have like, a tiny little crush on Mitch. It’s not his fault Mitch has this stupid fucking smile that lights up a room. And like stupid pretty eyes if you’re into that kind of thing. Which Dylan has to admit, he absolutely is. 

 

“Ugh, fine. You’re right. I have a stupid crush on him.” 

 

“Oh bud, only you would end up with a crush on your ‘mortal enemy.’”

 

“He was  _ not _ my mortal enemy.” 

 

“Dyls, you literally said those exact words like last month after we played them in November.” 

 

“I can’t help it if he’s a little shit on the ice,” Dylan grumbles.

 

Connor laughs. “This is a situation only you would get yourself into.” 

 

Dylan sighs. “It’s whatever. It’s never gonna go anywhere. He’s not into guys.” 

 

Connor pulls Dylan into his side. “Hey you never know. Don’t sell yourself short, you know?”

 

Dylan shrugs. “I guess. Can we like, not talk about this anymore and just watch the show?”

 

Connor nods and presses play. The subject drops and it’s not revisited. Dylan just enjoys his day in his best friend’s company.

 

***

 

The rest of the weekend passes by in a haze of sex and self loathing. They fuck on every available surface in Mitch's apartment and Dylan's sore in the best ways. He's going to feel Mitch for days. It's a delicious form of self punishment. He’s definitely going to regret this tomorrow but right now it feels worth it. 

 

“Do you want me to drive you to the airport?” Mitch asks from where he’s lying in bed, looking up at Dylan as he gets dressed on his third morning in Toronto. It's 4:00 in the morning and the sun isn't even peeking over the horizon yet. 

 

“No, it's okay. Stay in bed.” 

 

“Can you at least stay another couple minutes?” Mitch pouts. Honest to God pouts. 

 

Dylan sighs. “I can't. And I really shouldn't. This was a lot of fun but we um, probably shouldn't do this again.”

 

“Okay,” Mitch’s voice sounds small. 

 

“Thank you. For this. For picking me up, for letting me stay here.”

 

“Yeah,” Mitch says. 

 

Dylan pulls on his shirt. “I'm gonna go. You stay in bed. Get back to sleep. It's early.” 

 

He leans in and kisses Mitch one last time, one last push of the self destruct button before facing the music. He walks to the living room, calls an Uber and puts on his shoes and goes downstairs to wait for it. He spends the ride with his eyes closed, forehead pressed against the window.

 

*

 

He gets to locker clean out straight from the airport with the largest coffee he could find. He somehow managed to get there on time. 

 

“Where the fuck have you been? I've been trying to call you for three days.”

 

Dylan looks down at his feet.

 

“Tell me you didn't. Tell me you didn't do what I'm thinking you did.”

 

Dylan looks back up at Nick and it's written all over his face. Nick wraps an arm around Dylan and pulls him into his side. 

 

“Wow. Okay. We’ll- we’re gonna get through locker clean out and then we’re gonna get shitfaced and you can either tell me about it or not but I'm not letting you be alone.” 

 

“Thank you,” Dylan chokes out.

 

“We can invite Law, Chych and Kells if you want, or it can be just us. Up to you.”

 

“Just us please.”

 

“You got it.”

 

They survive locker clean out and the questions from the media about what it feels like to come so close and lose it all. The answer is fucking terrible and he'd rather have gone out in the first round but you can't say that. All you can say is you’re grateful for the opportunity and proud of the team for getting there and you're all going to come into camp hungry and ready to work. Platitudes.

 

Nick finishes up not long after Dylan and they climb in his car and head to Dylan's house. When they get there Dylan drops his bag by the front door.

 

“I'm gonna shower. Order a pizza. Tequila is on top of the fridge. Vodka's in the freezer. Pick your poison.” 

 

Nick nods and heads to the kitchen, phone already out and dialing their favorite pizza place. 

 

Dylan cries in the shower. It's that really ugly cry and then he just stands there until the hot water runs out. He doesn't even wash off but it's at least enough to get rid of that 'airport’ feeling that's lingered on him all day. He climbs out, dries off and throws on his rattiest, most worn out sweats. Otters. He smiles a little. He misses his boys. They’ll have to get Alex to come up for a couple days this summer. 

 

By the time he gets out to the living room, there's already a pizza open on the coffee table with two slices missing and Nick stuffing his face on the couch. The tequila sits open next to the box. Dylan goes for the bottle first, taking a few quick swigs and not even bothering with a glass. 26 is too old for this but he doesn't give a single fuck right now. 

 

They finish the pizza and half the bottle of tequila before Nick looks at Dylan and asks, “Why?”

 

“Why what?” Dylan replies looking up from where he's contemplating taking another ill-advised swig of tequila. 

 

“You know what I mean. Why would you go see Mitch? Why now?”

 

“Sometimes you just gotta hit that good old self destruct button.” 

 

Nick sighs. “You doing okay?”

 

“I mean not right now but I will be. I just… need some time to wallow I guess.”

 

“It sucks.”

 

“It for sure does but we'll be okay, right?” Dylan knows Nick will. He's not so sure about himself. 

 

They put on a shit movie for a bit and drink a little more. Eventually Nick insists they good to bed. As Dylan climbs in his phone buzzes.

 

**Mitch:** _ Can we be friends? _

 

Dylan is drunk enough to text back  _ yes _ . 

  
  


***

 

Mitch comes to ball hockey for the first time the summer after World Hockey Challenge. They make him play goalie for the first game which of course ends with Mikey hitting Mitch directly in his wide, stupid smile. He doesn't even complain, just winces around the smile and gets pulled from goal and put on Dylan's wing. They of course, make magic together, which is why everyone wanted Mitch in goal in the first place. It's okay by Dylan. They take home the Comi Cup this year. Dylan gets that it's just summer ball hockey, and that Mikey is one of his oldest and best friends, but like, bragging rights are bragging rights and winning feels good no matter what the context. And winning with Mitch? Well that just feels even better. 

 

They're sitting in the backyard sipping beers around the fire when Mitch comes back out of the house, ice pack pressed to his face. 

 

“Stromer, your mom is making me ice my face,” he mumbles around the ice pack. He plops himself down in Dylan's lap. Dylan adjusts underneath him to get more comfortable. 

 

“She probably should, don't want that lip to get any bigger, eh?” 

 

Mitch sighs and turns to glare at Mikey. Dylan squeezes his hip. “At least you're not getting a black eye like Matty did last year. He couldn't open it for 3 days!” 

 

Mitch laughs, “Maybe it's time to invest in some goalie masks. Can't risk messing up your pretty face.” He face washes Dylan. 

 

Dylan shoves at him lightly, enough to shift him but not enough to dislodge him. Mitch loops an arm around him and they stay like that for a while until Mitch takes the ice pack off his lip. 

 

“My face is cold,” he mumbles and tucks it into Dylan's neck. Dylan shivers against the sudden shift in temperature. He just lets Mitch burrow in closer, luxuriating in the skin to skin contact and the weight of Mitch in his lap. 

 

In that moment, it hits him. That shit, this maybe isn't just a crush. There's a lot more here and Dylan is maybe just a little bit in love with Mitch. 

 

If Dylan's being honest with himself, which with Mitch he generally tries not to be, it's more like he's a lot in love with Mitch and maybe he shouldn't be doing this right now. He gets up abruptly, shoving Mitch off his lap.  

“I'm um- I gotta go to the bathroom. I'll um, be right back.” 

 

He doesn't run back to the house but it's a close thing. He climbs the stairs to his room two at a time, gets in and locks the door. He sits down with his back against it. He texts Davo. 

 

**Dylan:** _ I think I'm in love with Mitch _

 

**Davo:** _ I'm sorry bud, that really sucks _

 

**Dylan:** _ Why? Why did I have to go and fall in love with him?  _

 

**Davo:** _ I'm sorry. I know this really sucks right now. Do you want me to call? _

 

**Dylan:** _ No, you go enjoy your family thing. We’ll talk later. _

 

**Davo:** _ You're gonna be okay. Love ya bud. _

 

**Dylan:** _ Love you too. _

 

Dylan sets down his phone and tips his head back against the door and closes his eyes. He lets the sound of the boys outside drift over him and just wallows for a little bit. 

 

He must sit there for a long time. There's a knock on the door.

 

“Hey Dyls? You okay in there?” Mikey says from the other side of the door. 

 

Dylan sighs, stands up, and opens the door. Mikey immediately wraps him in a tight hug. 

 

“Are you okay?” He asks.

 

“I will be,” Dylan replies quietly. “Just needed a few minutes.”

 

“Is this about Mitch? I can tell him to like back off for you if he's making you uncomfortable or something.”

 

Dylan hugs Mikey back tightly. Mikey really does know him best, can always read him. And yeah it's about Mitch and the stupid feelings Dylan had to go and get for him, that somehow over the last six months have morphed from a crush into being actually in love, but he doesn't want anything to change. He likes this closeness with Mitch. He likes Mitch sitting in his lap, throwing an arm around him comfortably. Dylan's a physical person and he laps up that type of affection even if it's probably not what's best for him. 

 

“Nah. He's fine. I just needed a couple minutes. Thanks for checking up on me.

 

“I've always got your back.” Mikey smiles at Dylan. Dylan gives him one last squeeze.

 

“Let's head back out.”

 

They swing through the kitchen on their way out and grab s’mores supplies. When they get back out, Mitch is sitting on the arm of Dylan's chair. He doesn't sit in Dylan's lap again while he's involved in roasting marshmallows but he does wrap his free arm around Dylan as he licks the sticky leftovers from his fingers. Dylan snuggles in.

 

“You doing okay?” Mitch asks. “You were gone for a while.”

 

“Yeah, just had a couple too many beers too fast and needed to clear my head for a minute. Thanks.”

 

Mitch turns and presses a small kiss to Dylan’s hair. “Glad you're good.”

 

And Dylan might not be great, but he can deal. Summer is almost over and the season starts soon. He’ll have his season to distract him and it's their draft year so he's gotta work extra hard and that will be enough. 

 

***

 

Dylan takes John out on their third date in 10 days. They go mini golfing and John is just terrible. His grip on the club is all wrong and he misses the ball on the first three swings on the first hole. 

 

“I'm sorry. I completely suck,” John laughs. 

 

“It's okay. I just grew up golfing. It's like a thing hockey players do in the off-season. And then epically competitive mini golf with the other guys on my team became like a post training camp ritual. Do you want me to help you?”

 

“Yeah, if you wouldn't mind.” John says. He's blushing lightly but he's still smiling. 

 

“I don't,” Dylan says. “Okay, stand with your feet shoulder width apart.” 

 

John follows the direction and Dylan comes up behind John and wraps his arms around him. Dylan gently takes one of John’s hands and puts it in place on the club. 

 

“So this hand goes here,” he instructs. He takes John’s other hand and places it. “And this hand goes here.” 

 

He keeps his hands over John's. “Okay, now we're going to swing. Keep your eye on the ball and pull your arms back like this. You wanna time it so that you swing while the hole in the windmill is just starting to close so it'll be open when your ball gets there.” 

 

He guides John's arms back and then swings them forward together to hit the ball. It goes down through the windmill and onto the green. 

 

“Do you wanna try again without me? I'll let you hit my ball.”

 

John turns in the circle of Dylan's arms to face him. “Yeah. I think I will.”

 

Dylan steps back and pulls his ball from his pocket. He places it for John to hit. This time John hits the ball on his own. He manages to make it through the windmill, onto the green, and right into the hole for a hole in one. His face lights up. 

 

“Oh my God!” He exclaims. “I just did that.”

 

Dylan laughs. “Hell yeah you did!” 

 

He holds out his hand for a high five which John obliges. 

 

They go through the rest of the course and John gets the hang of it pretty quickly. They don't keep score and they spend most of the night laughing. 

 

Being with John is easy. It's fun. It fits. 

 

At the end, John asks, “Do you want come back to mine?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.” He follows John back to his place. 

 

John's apartment is nice. It's small, one bedroom but he lives alone. He's got a nice TV. 

 

“Movie?”John asks. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What kind?”

 

“It's up to you.”

 

John picks a superhero movie from Netflix and hits play. They settle in on the couch. It doesn't take long until they’re kissing, movie forgotten in the background. It gets hot and heavy really fast and John climbs in Dylan's lap. Then John is tugging on the hem of Dylan's shirt.

 

And Dylan is not so sure he's ready for that. He really, really likes John and doesn't want to fuck this up, doesn't want to rush things, so he pulls back. 

 

“Can we pause for a second?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah okay.” John looks down, a little dejected.

 

“Hey, no,” Dylan says, touching John’s chin and lifting it so John's looking him in the eye. “I really like you, like so much. I just don't want to rush things.”

 

“Okay. I get it. And for the record, I really like you too.” John says softly. He smiles, a gentle little thing, at Dylan. “Can I keep kissing you?”

 

Dylan nods, “Absolutely.” 

 

John leans back in and starts kissing him again. They make out for a while and then John pulls away and sits down next to him on the couch. 

 

“I know you wanna take things slow but do you maybe wanna stay the night anyway? We don't have to do anything. I just, I kind of want to sleep next to you? Is that weird?”

 

“No,” Dylan says, taking John's hand in his. “I think that sounds really nice.”

 

They turn off the TV and John leads him to the bedroom. 

 

“There's an extra toothbrush in the 2nd drawer to the left of the sink. I can give you some basketball shorts and t-shirt if you want.”

 

“Just shorts is cool,” Dylan says. John tosses him a pair. He strips down and puts the shorts on and walks to the bathroom. He and John brush their teeth side by side. 

 

“Is it okay if I take the side by the door?” Dylan asks when they walk back into the bedroom. 

 

“Perfect. I always sleep closer to the windows anyway.”

 

They climb into bed and Dylan lays on his back and John tucks himself into Dylan's side, head on Dylan’s chest. Dylan wraps an arm around John’s shoulders. 

 

“Mmm, this is nice.” John says.

 

“Yeah, yeah it is.” 

 

They drift to sleep pressed together and it's the happiest Dylan's felt in a long time.

 

In the morning, John makes him breakfast and kisses him goodbye at his car when Dylan leaves to get to the rink. He's going to get so much shit, showing up in last night’s clothes, but it's absolutely worth it. 

 

***

 

Dylan is… not really sure why Drunk Him to thought it was a good idea to say yes when Mitch texted him but here he is, living with the consequences. His phone is ringing, Mitch’s second call of the week and Dylan is not sure what to make of that. Who calls people in the year 2023? Dylan stopped calling anyone who wasn't his mom literally when he was 16 years old.

 

But Mitch is like, the friendliest person on the planet so he calls.

 

And for the second time, Dylan answers. 

 

“Hey Mitch,” he says.

 

“Hey how's it going?”

 

“Good, you?”

 

“I'm good.”

 

There's an awkward pause which Mitch breaks. “So what are you doing today?” 

 

“Oh, just hanging out by the pool. Merks and Law are coming over in a bit for dinner.”

 

“You cook now?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah I do,” Dylan laughs. “I did that blue apron thing for a while and this guy I was dating taught me a few things. I grill a mean steak.”

 

“Oh, cool. I'm still a terrible cook. The last time I tried to make anything more complicated than spaghetti, I set off the smoke detectors.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. It was last week.” 

 

Dylan lets out a loud cackle. “Mitch, you're 26!” 

 

Mitch sighs, “I know. I've been reminded. I don't know. I can just like never focus on it enough and like everything is fine and the next minute, smoke everywhere! Maybe I should take a class or something.” 

 

“Maybe. I should probably go since people are coming soon.” Dylan’s got like an hour before the guys get here but phone conversations are weird and hard.

 

“Are you going to be home this summer?” Mitch says quickly.

 

“Yeah. I'm coming back in a couple weeks. I always do Biosteel with Davo.”

 

“Okay, cool. I was just umm... wondering. Can we-” he pauses and Dylan hears a bit of a shaky breath coming through over the line. “Can we hang out this summer?”

 

Dylan shouldn't be surprised but he somehow is. He's not sure if it's the question itself or how unsure Mitch sounds asking it. Mitch was always confident, so sure everyone would be his friend, and how can they not? Mitch is easy to love and Dylan knows that better than anyone else. 

 

“Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah we can.” 

 

“Okay, great!” Mitch’s voice brightens considerably. He seems so happy at the idea of hanging out with Dylan that it's contagious. Even if it's probably, no definitely, not in Dylan's best interest, Mitch’s enthusiasm is catching. 

 

After that they end up staying on the phone until there's a knock at Dylan’s door.

 

“Oh shit, they're here. I gotta go. Thanks for calling Mitchy.” Dylan smiles in spite of himself as he gets up and walks to the door.” 

 

“Yeah, this was fun. Talk again soon?”

 

“Yeah, for sure. Bye.”

 

“Bye,” Dylan says as he opens the door.

 

“Bye? That's not what you say when you answer the door,” Lawson says, laughing. 

 

“Sorry. Was on the phone.”

 

“With who?” Nick asks eying Dylan suspiciously. 

 

Dylan looks back, trying to look calm. “Mitch.”

 

Nick doesn't say anything, just puts his hand on Dylan's shoulder as he walks by. He knows Nick's not judging, he's just being a good friend but Dylan is maybe judging himself a little. He shakes it off and goes to spend time with his friends before they all head back home for the summer. 

 

***

 

After Erie's last game in London of the 14-15 regular season, Dylan finds Mitch waiting for him outside the locker room after he's showered and ready to get on the team bus to the hotel. They're staying in London overnight after a late night bus ride from Niagara the night before.

 

“Hey,” Mitch says brightly for someone whose team just got demolished. He pulls Dylan into a hug. “What time is curfew?” he asks as he pulls back.

 

“Not ‘til 12:30. We're not leaving until like 10:00 tomorrow.” 

 

“Do you wanna go grab something to eat? Last chance of the regular season.”

 

Dylan smiles, “Yeah. Absolutely! Let me just ask Coach if I can ride with you.”

 

“Tell Davo he's coming too.” Mitch tells him. 

 

Dylan ducks back into the locker room. Coach gives him the okay to go with Mitch and Davo agrees. They head out to Mitch’s car. 

 

“Diner?” Mitch asks as Dylan slide into the front seat. 

 

“Diner!” Dylan and Connor shout in unison. 

 

“Mmm, waffles,” Dylan moans. “I want waffles.” 

 

Mitch laughs. “Don't worry, Stromer. This place has good ones.” 

 

“Yes,” Dylan replies, drawing out the 's.’

 

The radio is playing Adele when Mitch turns on the car. 

 

Dylan and Mitch look at each other and burst out into song on the top of their lungs. 

“NEVERMIND I’LL FIND SOMEONE LIKE YOU….”

 

Connor groans from his place in the back seat and covers his ears. Dylan fights down a laugh to keep singing. They keep singing when it's followed by 'Problem’ by Ariana Grande and Connor groans even louder. 

 

“Please, please stop. I'm begging you.”

 

“Never!” Mitch shouts and then goes back to singing. They don't stop until they pull in the diner parking lot. 

 

“Thank God,” Connor mutters as he climbs out. 

 

“Not sorry, Davo,” Dylan says, laughing as they walk through the diner doors. 

 

They get a booth that's tucked into the corner in the back of the restaurant. Dylan slides in. Mitch crawls in next to him and drapes an arm around his shoulders.

 

Dylan hums, content. He'd played a good game and now he gets to hang out with his two favorite people.

 

And eat waffles. Can't forget about the waffles. 

 

They all sit quietly, looking at the menu even though they know what they're going to order. Connor will be good and get an omelette with lots of veggies and no cheese, Mitch'll get eggs and bacon, and Dylan always gets something a little too sweet to be advisable. 

 

Dylan keeps looking at Mitch through the corner of his eye. They're pressed together, shoulder to knee and Mitch’s arm is still around him while he studies the menu one handed. Dylan leans into the contact and rests his head on Mitch's shoulder. 

 

Connor yawns.

 

“Tired?” Mitch asks them both as he sets his menu down on the table. He runs a hand through Dylan's hair. 

 

“Yeah. We got in after midnight last night,” Dylan says. It had only been a little over an hour drive but the game in Sarnia had been tough. It's always a little exhausting to blow it in the third period. 

 

Connor nods. “I couldn't fall asleep.” 

 

“Well you guys certainly didn't play like it,” Mitch says, raising an eyebrow. 

 

Dylan laughs, “Yeah, three points to your two. Loser buys dinner.”

 

“Fine. Fair enough,” Mitch agrees. “But when I beat you for the scoring title, you’re buying me dinner for the rest of the summer.” 

 

“In your dreams, Marner,” Dylan says and ruffles Mitch’s hair. 

 

Connor sighs and rolls his eyes fondly at them.  “Come on guys,” he says as their waitress walks up to them. 

 

They order and spend the wait for their food talking comfortably and happily. Mitch’s arm stays around Dylan's shoulder until their food comes. They're quiet as they eat and after, all tired from good hockey. 

 

Mitch pays the bill. 

 

“Don't forget, when I win, a summer of dinners, Stromer.” Mitch chirps as they get out of the car. 

 

“You wish, pal. You wish.”

 

Dylan and Connor walk up to their hotel room. 

 

“I think-” Dylan says, once they get inside. “I think he might like me back?”

 

Connor shrugs. “Maybe. It's hard to tell with Mitch. He's like you, he's a very affectionate guy.”

 

“I know. I just… look, I'm not like I'm actually going to actually do anything about it. But it's nice to think about? I don't know. Maybe I'm just reading too much into it.”

 

“Just be careful, bud. Don't want you to get hurt.”

 

“I know. Thanks for looking out for me.”

 

“Always.”

 

***

 

Training was rough this morning so when Mitch texts  _ come swim with me _ , Dylan obviously says yes. He for some reason got a membership to a fancy rooftop pool and is willing to share it with Dylan so he's not gonna say no to that. 

 

“I got the membership with Matts but he's been in Arizona for the last couple of weeks so I haven't been in a while,” Mitch tells Dylan as they ride the elevator up to the roof. “It's pretty great and it won't be too crowded at this time of day.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

They're quiet for the rest of the way up. Things are a little awkward still, friendship taking its first fledgling steps, but it's not bad. 

 

The doors slide open revealing a stunning view of the city. The sky is pure blue without a cloud in sight. It's warm, but not the oppressive, humid kind of hot it can get sometimes in the summer. It's kind of perfect.

 

“Whoa,” Dylan says as he circles the pool deck.

 

“It pays to be a Leaf, eh?”

 

“Really! This is insane!”

 

“Sometimes Matts makes good choices. It's rare, but sometimes.”

 

Dylan laughs. “You’ve made plenty of bad choices with him. I still remember the matching fedoras.”

 

Mitch rolls his eyes. “No one will ever let us live that down. Marty’s still chirping me about it and it's been years.”

 

“As he should.” 

 

They set their towels and backpacks down on lounge chairs in the shade.

 

“Can you put sunscreen on my back?” Mitch asks. 

 

“Sure,” Dylan says and sticks out his hand for the tube of sunscreen. Mitch passes it over to him and turns around. Dylan squirts some into his hands, rubs them together and starts in on Mitch's back. Dylan can't help but marvel at Mitch. He's changed so much, broader now than he ever was, even this early in training, before putting on his summer weight. It's a lot for Dylan to handle but he's got no choice. He rubs the sunscreen in slow and even, making sure not to miss anywhere.

 

“Mmm, that feels good,” Mitch hums. “I probably need a massage.”

 

Dylan steps back. He sucks in a breath he tries to hide before handing the sunscreen back to Mitch. 

 

“Your turn,” he says as he turns around. He tries to think about literally anything else in the world to distract him from the feeling of Mitch's hands on his body, tries to think of anything but the last time they saw each other. 

 

***

 

Losing in the OHL final hurts, especially because it was Connor's only real chance. He's not coming back to Juniors next year. Dylan kind of wallows in it for a few days and then ignores hockey. The combine kind of sneaks up on him. 

 

He's nervous when he gets to Buffalo. He's not rooming with anyone he knows which doesn't make things any better but Mitch texts him about going to dinner which does. Dylan agrees to meet him, Lawson and TK in the lobby in 15 minutes. He changes into a fresh t-shirt, washes his face, and looks himself in the mirror.

 

“You can do this, Strome,” he tells his reflection and then heads downstairs. 

 

Mitch is already waiting when Dylan steps out of the elevator and pulls him into a long, lingering hug.

 

“I know I said it already but I'm sorry about the finals,” Mitch says as he pulls away. 

 

Dylan shrugs. “Can't do anything about it now. I just really wanted to win it for Davo, you know? We only managed to pull out one win.”

 

“Yeah. It's rough.” 

 

Dylan sighs, “Yeah.”

 

They walk over and sit on the benches in the lobby to wait for TK and Lawson. 

 

“You doing okay?” Mitch asks.

 

“Yeah, I guess. I'm just like, really nervous.” Dylan looks down at his feet.

 

Mitch reaches out and takes Dylan's hand. 

 

“You're gonna kill it, Dyls. You're gonna kill it and every team is gonna want you.” 

 

“Thanks.” Dylan smiles down at his shoes.

 

Mitch doesn't let go of his hand. Warmth blossoms in the pit of Dylan's stomach. 

 

TK and Lawson walk over to them and Dylan slips his hand out of Mitch's and stands up. 

 

“Hey boys, ready to eat?”

 

“Let's go,” Lawson says. 

 

They walk down the street to the burger place TK found. Mitch stays next to Dylan and the backs of their hands brush every so often as they go. His fingers itch to take Mitch’s hand again so he shoves his hands in his pockets to stop himself from doing something stupid. He leaves them there until they're sliding into a booth with menus in front of them.

 

Mitch takes his hand under the table and the warmth from earlier returns and spreads up into his chest. It feels like hope. 

 

***

 

Dylan is bored. It's too quiet at his place but he guesses that’s the perils of living alone. Matty moved out this summer to get a place with his girlfriend and Dylan is, well, very single. He wants to hang out with someone but Connor's got a commercial to shoot this afternoon and his brothers both have afternoon workouts so he texts Mitch. 

 

**Dylan:** _ You busy? _

 

**Mitch:** _ Just got done with my workout. Eating lunch. What's up? _

 

 **Dylan:** _Wanna hang out?_

 

 **Mitch:** _Yeah, sure. I was gonna go to the aquarium today. Wanna come with?_

 

**Dylan:** _ Sounds good.  _

 

**Mitch:** _ Meet there at like 2:00 _

 

**Dylan:** _ Perfect, see you then. _

 

Dylan plugs his phone into the charger so he can take a couple of pictures with the fish. He hasn't been to the aquarium since he was a kid but he loves fish. Plus, posting cute pictures with fish will probably make the Yotes PR team happy. Everyone has been quiet this summer, mostly keeping to themselves. Dylan eats the leftovers in his fridge for lunch and then heads out to Toronto.

 

The aquarium is pretty quiet which probably makes sense. It's the middle of the afternoon on Thursday while most people are at work and kids aren't in school so there are no trips to worry about. Dylan finds Mitch easily. He's standing just inside the doors with a Jays cap pulled low on his forehead. Dylan walks over.

 

“Hey. You ready to see some fish?”

 

Mitch smiles. “Ready. I already got tickets since I beat you here.” 

 

“Thanks,” Dylan says as he takes the paper ticket Mitch holds out to him. “I can't believe they still print paper tickets.”

 

“Kids like 'em, I think.” Mitch shrugs. 

 

They wander in through the entranceway into the first area. It has sharks and Dylan looks into the tank and watches them swim for a minute.

 

“Smile,” Mitch says and Dylan turns around to find Mitch with his cell phone out, probably already snapping the picture. He laughs down at his screen. 

 

Yeah, he took the picture before Dylan was ready. Mitch hands the phone over and it's Dylan with his eyes too wide and mouth halfway to a smile but not there enough to look right. There's a shark just behind him. 

 

“Oh, god. That's awful. Please delete.”

 

“I don't know. I think it's cute and I should keep it.”

 

Dylan rolls his eyes and turns back to the tank. He snaps a picture of his own and then uploads it to his insta story. He tags the aquarium. 

 

They move on to the next exhibit. They have the Pacific Octopus there. Dylan spends 5 minutes reading about them on the plaque on the wall. They're pretty smart. He remembers hearing about one escaping from somewhere years ago but he can't remember where. He snaps another picture. 

 

Turns out there's lot of cool stuff in Canada including a lobster that Mitch jokes is Leafs blue. 

 

Dylan holds out his hand for Mitch’s phone. “I'll take your picture. Come on.” Mitch’s smile widens and he hands his phone over. 

 

Mitch takes off his hat and squats down next to the tank. He points at the lobster and Dylan snaps the picture. It's kinda cute, the way Mitch grins. He's always had a great smile but it seems especially bright right now.  

As Mitch is standing up, a little girl and her mom walk past and then she stops in her tracks and turns around. 

 

“Are you,” her eyes are wide and round. She can't be more than five years old. “Are you Mitch Marner?”

 

Mitch squats back down. Dylan steps back out of the way to let Mitch do his thing and the kid is wearing a Marner shirsey. Dylan smiles fondly. Kids have always loved Mitch and he's always loved them back. He gets into an animated conversation with the little girl and then pulls a sharpie out of his back pocket. Of course he came prepared. 

 

“I'm sorry to interrupt your day,” the kid's mom says to him.

 

“Oh, no. It's okay. It was bound to happen.”

 

“Still sorry. Jenna is such a big fan. She loves the Leafs and Mitch is her favorite player.”

 

“I don't blame her,” Dylan says. “He's fun to watch.” 

 

“Mom! Mom!” the little girl calls out. “Mitch says we can take a picture!” 

 

“Do you want to be in it?” Dylan asks as the woman snaps a picture. 

 

“Yeah, actually that would be great.” She hands the camera over to Dylan.

 

She walks over and crouches down with Mitch and her daughter. Dylan snaps a couple pictures for her. 

 

“Thank you so much,” the woman says as Dylan hands her back her phone. “And Mitch thank you. I think you made her whole year.”

 

“No problem. And Jenna you keep working hard on those skating lessons and maybe you’ll play for the Furies someday.”

 

“Really?” She whispers.

 

“Really,” Mitch smiles down at her. 

 

“Come on Jenna. Let's let them enjoy their visit.” 

 

“Okay. Thank you Mitch. Bye!” She waves. “Bye Mitch’s friend!”

 

Dylan waves back. Once they get around the corner Dylan turns to Mitch. “That was so fucking cute. You are even better with kids than I remember.”

 

Mitch blushes and shrugs. “Part of the job.”

 

“Yeah but you don't just sign stuff, you get to know them. It's adorable.”

 

“I just like people.” 

 

They start wandering again. They get through the rest of the Canada exhibit and head downstairs for the coral reefs and to watch the rays swim. Dylan snaps a few more pictures. The spend about an hour wandering around the tunnels. Then they head back upstairs.

 

“I saved my favorite part for last.”

 

“What do you mean your favorite part? Haven't we seen everything?” Dylan asks raising his eyebrows. 

 

“We're gonna go pet the stingrays!” Mitch says, clapping his hands together excitedly.

 

“I am not touching a fish.”

 

“Good thing they're rays and not fish then,” Mitch says matter-of-factly. 

 

Dylan groans and drops his face in his hands. “Nooooo.”

 

“Yeeees.” Mitch takes one of Dylan's wrists and pulls it gently. “Come on. It's fun. I promise.”

 

Dylan sighs. He can see in Mitch's face how excited he is about this so he says, “Fine.” And follows Mitch up the stairs to where you can touch the rays. 

 

“Have to wash your hands first,” Mitch tells him and Dylan shuffles over to the sink. He washes his hands then dutifully goes to stand next to Mitch at the tank. 

 

“Ready?” Mitch asks. 

 

“As I'm gonna be,” Dylan replies. 

 

He watches as Mitch puts his hand in the water and strokes gently down the back of a ray as it passes by. Dylan sticks his hand in the water and waits. It's only a few seconds before a ray swims over and his heart starts beating really fast and he jumps back and pulls his hand out of the water. 

 

“Nope. Not doing it. Can't do it nope.”

 

Mitch turns and the smile slips from his face. His brows furrow. “Are you okay?”

 

“I don't know but I know that I can't do that.”

 

“I promise it's not gonna hurt you. Their mouths are on the bottom so they can't bite you or anything. At worst it will feel a little slimy.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan lets out shakily. “I can do this.” 

 

He sticks his hand into the water again and waits. He lets the ray get closer this time before pulling out at the last second.

 

“What if-” Mitch pauses. He walks over closer to Dylan. “What if we did it together?”

 

“How?”

 

Mitch puts his hand on top of Dylan's and pushes it gently into the water. 

 

“If you need me to stop, we can stop,” Mitch says. He's standing so close that Dylan can feel Mitch's breath. 

 

Another ray swims over almost without Dylan noticing but he doesn't pull away this time. He lets the ray swim under his fingers, gently brushing against them. 

 

The ray is soft, giving a little under his touch. It's skin is smooth and yeah, maybe a little slimy feeling, like oil on silk. 

 

“Wow.”

 

“See not so bad,” Mitch says, removing his hand and stepping back from Dylan. He puts his hand back underwater. 

 

“They feel weird. They're like squishy and a little slimy.  But you're right. Not so bad.” 

 

Dylan smiles at Mitch. They stand there, hands in the water, just looking at each other. Another ray swims under Dylan's fingers and he startles a little. He looks down at his feet. 

 

“Thanks for making me do that.” 

 

“No problem.”

 

And when Dylan looks back up, Mitch’s smiling is blinding. 

 

The memory of that smile and the feeling of Mitch's hand on his linger for days.

 

***

 

Dylan likes to go to the same coffee shop every day after practice. He must have tried about 15 different shops until he found the right one. It's halfway between the practice rink and his and Nick’s place and it has probably the best cold brew Dylan’s ever tasted. There is a long line today which makes Dylan huffs a little impatiently. It's been too long since his 7:00 am coffee and he spent that extra hour in the gym after skate today so he's really antsy. He gets to the counter, smiles at the usual barista who hands him his cold brew without even having to ask.

 

“Saw you come in,” she says. “I just poured yours in advance while I was making someone else’s.”

 

“Thanks Lindsey, you're the best,” he says. Man does it ever pay to be a regular.

 

Dylan walks over the bar, puts his milk into his cup and turns to leave when bam, he smacks right into a guy spilling his entire coffee all over himself. Luckily it’s only spilled onto him and not onto this other guy who is… Very very cute. 

 

“Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” Cute Guy says. “I should have been looking where I was going. I'm so sorry!” 

 

Dylan laughs lightly. “It's fine. I wasn't really paying attention either. I think it's both our fault.” 

 

“Can I at least buy you a new coffee? You lost all of yours. I didn't spill any.”

 

Dylan shrugs. “Not really necessary, dude. It's really okay.” 

 

“Please?” Cute Guy asks, giving Dylan a small smile which makes him even cuter. He has a dimple that pops out when he smiles and it's honestly a lot for Dylan to handle. 

 

“Okay,” Dylan says. “But I'm going to run outside and change my shirt real quick.” 

 

“I'll grab it while you do that. What's your order?”

 

“Medium cold brew? If that's okay? I know it's like $5 so if that's too much a regular iced coffee is fine.”

 

“Cold brew it is.” 

 

“Thanks, man. I'm like dying today. I'll be right back.” 

 

He walks out to his car and texts Nick.

 

**Dylan:** _ I just walked smack into one of the cutest guys I've ever seen and spilled my coffee all over myself, BUT he is buying me a new coffee. _

 

**Nick:** _ 1\. That sucks. 2. Get it Dyls!  _

 

Dylan rolls his eyes. Nick thinks he's hilarious but you know, shoot your shot or whatever. Dylan grabs a new t-shirt out of the back of his car and changes standing outside it. Thank God he always keeps an extra shirt in his car.  Cute Guy is waiting for him inside the door with coffee in hand. 

 

“I didn't know how you take it so I just got it black.”

 

“Thanks man.” Dylan takes the coffee. 

 

“I'm John,” Cute Guy says, sticking out his hand.

 

Dylan takes it and shakes it. “Dylan.”

 

“Are you doing anything right now, Dylan?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Well, I grabbed a giant chocolate cookie if you wanna sit with me and share it.”

 

Damn this guy is smooth and a little brave. Dylan grins. “Yeah, John. I think I'd like that.”

 

He leaves the coffee shop two hours later with a phone number and a plan to go out for drinks Friday. 

 

***  

 

Dylan doesn't expect Mitch to actually come to the summer ball hockey tournament when he invites him, but here Mitch is, sitting next to Dylan on his parents’ front lawn. 

 

“Thanks for the invite! I'm excited for another epic Strome-McLeod battle.”

 

“I'm glad you came.” He finds he means it.

 

“I'm  _ not  _ playing goalie this time.”

 

“We have a mask now. No more split lips!” 

 

“Don't care. I refuse.”

 

Mikey yells from where he's setting up the nets, “You guys aren't allowed to be on the same team if one of you isn't playing goalie!”

 

“Why not?” Mitch yells back.

 

“Too good together. Unfair advantage.”

 

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Mikey it's just ball hockey!”

 

Mikey stands up straight and puts his hands on his hips. “Just ball hockey?! The Comi Cup is on the line. Who are you and what have you done with Dylan Strome?!” 

 

Dylan shrugs.

 

“Dylan you're a  _ captain!”  _

 

_ “ _ Fine, fine. I care! Promise!”

 

Mikey smiles, satisfied. 

 

The teams shake out with three NHL players and one non-NHL friend.  Dylan is on a team with Mikey and Nate and Mitch ends up with Big Ryan, Big Matt and Taylor.  The third team has Matty, Little Ryan and Darren. It's a pretty even match up for road hockey. 

 

They battle it out hard, round robin style until about 2:00 and then take a break and hit the pool for a while. At 5:00 they have the finals, Team Dylan versus Team Big Ryan. It's a tough game with full body contact that's really not advisable for pro hockey players in the middle of their summer workouts but tradition is tradition and Dylan absolutely refuses to lose to Ryan and Mitch. They're tied with about 30 seconds left when Dylan checks Mitch off the ball and passes to Mikey who rockets a beauty into the net. Dylan almost tackles Mikey but they wait. The last seconds of the game tick down and Dylan’s team wins. They all dogpile on Mikey on the lawn. After a couple of minutes of rolling around screaming, they get presented with the cup by Matty and Little Ryan who won last year. Nate strips out of his goalie gear and he and Dylan hoist Mikey onto their shoulders. They do a lap around the yard like that, scream-singing ‘We Are the Champions’ on the top of their lungs. 

 

Eventually they set Mikey down and Dylan flops onto his back in the grass. Mitch sits down next to him, passes over a gatorade and nudges Dylan's knee with his own. “Just summer ball hockey, huh?” 

 

“Shut up,” Dylan half laughs, half groans.

 

“Always competitive, eh?”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

 

Mitch lets out a slow breath and Dylan turns to look at him. Mitch is leaning back on his hands, starting up at the sky, a slight, contented smile on his face.

 

“Thanks for inviting me,” Mitch says eventually. He lays down so his shoulder is pressed right into Dylan’s. “This was a lot of fun.”

 

Dylan rolls over onto his side, leans up on his elbow and looks down at Mitch. Mitch just smiles at him, wide and easy and open. 

 

“I'm really glad you came,” Dylan replies quietly. 

 

They just lay there like that, smiling at each other for what could be seconds or minutes for all Dylan knows until Mikey coughs.

 

“Stromer, we’ve got a keg to tap. Come help me.”

 

“Can't Nate help you with that?”

 

“Not Nate’s party.”

 

“Technically not mine either. It's at your parents’ house,” Dylan says as he stands up. 

Mikey rolls his eyes. “It's the Strome-McLeod Ball Hockey Tournament. It's your party too.”

 

Dylan sighs and stands up. He brushes himself off and follows Mikey into the house. When he gets there, he looks around for the keg but it's not there but Nate is.

 

“What the fuck, Mikey?”

 

Mikey pretends to put a detective cap on his which makes Nate smile and Dylan frown.

 

“What are you doing?” Dylan asks.

 

“Putting my detective cap on, obviously,” Mikey says, as though that's just something normal that anyone would do. 

 

“Mikey, why are you so fucking weird?”

 

“I think it’s cute!” Nate chimes in and then kisses Mikey on the cheek.

 

Dylan rolls eyes. “What do you want Mikey?”

 

“Conference, my bedroom, now.”

 

“Is it really your bedroom if you don’t actually live here anymore?” Dylan asks, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Whatever,” Mikey huffs. “You know what I mean.” Mikey grabs Dylan's arm and drags him upstairs, Nate trailing behind. He shoves Dylan inside his old room and closes the door. 

 

“Okay,” Mikey starts. “What the fuck is Mitch doing here? You literally haven’t talked in five years and now all of a sudden he's back?”

 

“Does Nate really need to be here for this conversation?”

 

“Yes, I need the moral support to deal with this.”

 

“Mikey, come on.”

 

“What the fuck is he doing here Dylan?”

 

“We’re friends again?” Dylan says, and it comes out like a question. It's not that he's unsure but Mikey is the first person to try and call him on his bluff. 

 

“Oh Dyl,” Mikey sighs, brows drawn together in concern. “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

 

“No it’s different this time. I think…” Dylan trails off and takes a deep breath. “I think it may actually be helping me move on.”

 

Mikey gives him the side eye and crosses his arms over his chest. 

 

“No, I mean it. It kind of feels like it’s time. Like I can’t let it keep on affecting my life anymore and being friends with Mitch is part of that.”

 

Mikey looks at Dylan for a long moment. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

 

“I do,” Dylan reassures, even if he really has no clue.

 

“You know I’ll be there for you if this falls apart, right?

 

“I know. It’s not going to this time. It’s good.”

 

Mikey reaches out and pulls Dylan into a tight hug. “I just want you to be happy.”

 

“I know, bud. I’m trying. I promise.”

 

They head back outside to join the party and find the keg already tapped, the tequila bottle open, and the fire already going despite the lingering heat. Dylan sits in the chair next to Mitch.

 

“Why is the fire already going? Sun’s not even fully down yet.”

 

“Big Ryan made the executive decision to get the fire burning before we are all too drunk and use too much lighter fluid and set the neighborhood on fire.”

 

“Probably smart.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They sit quietly for a while sipping their beers, watching the clouds turn brilliant shades of purple, seeping into blues and grays as the sun sinks further down the horizon. 

 

“You need another beer?” Mitch asks getting up from his chair. 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan says and passes over his cup. Mitch takes it and wanders towards the keg. 

 

Nate steals Mitch's seat and pulls Mikey into his lap.

 

“You good?” Nate asks.

 

“Yeah, Mitch just went to refresh our beers. You stole his seat.”

 

“He didn't call dibs,” Mikey says matter of factly. “Guess he’ll have to sit on the ground.”

 

Mitch does not, in fact, sit on the ground. When he gets back he looks at his now occupied seat and then at Dylan. 

 

“Scoot over, Dyls. We're sharing that chair.”

 

“We won't both fit in this chair anymore. We never really both fit in this chair!” Dylan exclaims.

 

“Not with that attitude,” Mitch laughs. He shoves Dylan over so there is a sliver of space for him to sit and then drapes himself over Dylan's lap.

Mikey eyes them skeptically. Dylan smile and shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. He’s not gonna deny himself this closeness. It’s like therapy or something. If he works through it, it’ll be easier on the other side.

 

***

 

Draft day arrives and Dylan wakes up at 5:09 am, wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. He’s nervous but at least he's not alone. His family is here, and Davo’s here and Mitch is here and that is one hell of a support system. He knows he's probably going to go pretty high but you just never know. Crazy shit happens at the draft sometimes and picks come out of nowhere. He envies Connor a little, knowing where he’s going to go, no waiting. Dylan wouldn't want it though, not the kind of pressure to be the be all end all, hopes of an entire franchise on his shoulders. 

 

He heads down to the gym to work off some of the energy buzzing under his skin. He finds Mitch already down there, jogging slowly on the treadmill. 

 

“Couldn't get back to sleep?” Mitch asks, pulling his headphones out of his ears. 

 

“Didn’t even try, honestly.” Dylan climbs onto the treadmill next to Mitch. “Figured running it out was the best option.

 

“I woke up at like 4:00. Tried to get back to sleep but couldn't so here I am.” 

 

They run for a while in silence until Mitch slows his treadmill to a stop. 

 

“Can we talk about something?” he asks.

 

“Always.” Dylan hops off his treadmill. “What's up?

 

Mitch takes Dylan by the hand and leads him out of the gym and into the stairwell. Mitch’s eyes are wide, a little fearful 

 

“What's going on Mitch? Are you alright?”

 

Instead of answering Mitch pushes him against a wall and kisses him, hard and fast. And it's...

 

Holy shit. 

 

Dylan’s brain goes offline and he's all action, hand sliding into Mitch's hair, one on his hip, brushing the sliver of skin where Mitch’s shorts and t-shirt don't quite meet. 

 

He doesn't care that it's draft day. He doesn't care about anything but this. They kiss for what feels like hours, barely coming up for air until Mitch's phone buzzes and he pulls away. 

 

“Shit. I have to go. That's my mom.”

 

“See you later.” 

 

Mitch walks away and Dylan stands there touching his lips. He can't believe what just happened.

 

He pulls his head out of the clouds and gets on with the business of draft day. If he's smiling a little wider than everyone else, no one notices. His name gets called third overall and he's ecstatic. He makes his way down for all pictures and press but he's there enough to hear Mitch's name get called fourth, Leafs. 

 

They’ll be far. They were always going to be far away. Arizona is near nothing and no one but they'll be okay. 

 

They pass each other in the hallway and Dylan reaches out and squeezes Mitch’s hand. Mitch squeezes back.

 

“We’ll talk later?” Dylan asks. 

 

“Yeah. For sure.” 

 

And then he's gone.

 

Dylan waits up later that night for Mitch to text him except the text never comes.

 

_ Tomorrow _ , Dylan thinks.  _ We’ll talk tomorrow. _

 

But they don't. 

 

***

 

Dylan gets a text from Mitch just as he and Connor are looking at places to grab brunch. 

 

**Mitch:** _ What are you up to? _

 

**Dylan:** _ Hanging out with Davo. What's up? _

 

**Mitch:** _ Oh, nevermind. Have fun! _

 

“Hey Davo, do you mind if I invite Mitch?”

 

Connor glances at Dylan out of the corner of his eye and raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”

 

He sounds a little skeptical but Dylan supposes that's fair. It's been a long time and Mitch and Connor never really stayed that close. Dylan thinks he might have something to do with that honestly and he feels a little guilty about it. 

 

 “Okay, cool.”

 

**Dylan:** _ Do you want to come to brunch with us? _

 

**Mitch:** _ Oh, no. It's okay. You guys go have fun. _

 

**Dylan:** _ No, it's cool. I want you to come. _

 

**Mitch:** _ I'm not interrupting like Dyls and Davo time? _

 

**Dylan:** _ I literally see him five days a week at the gym. Come to brunch.  _

 

**Mitch:** _ Okay, just text me where and when and I'll be there. _

 

“Mitch is coming,” Dylan says, looking up from his phone. 

 

“You're smiling,” Connor says. 

 

“I smile all the time!” 

 

Connor sighs. 

 

“What? I do!” 

 

“Yeah, sure. But I haven't seen you smile like this in a long time.”

 

“Whatever. Let's just pick a place.”

 

They find something that looks good and make a reservation. Dylan lets Mitch know and they head out the restaurant. 

 

Mitch is already waiting when they get there. He's looking down at his phone, texting so Dylan calls out to him. Mitch looks up and smiles wide and open. He's beautiful and that's a thought that doesn't hurt Dylan as much as it used to. 

 

“Hey!” Mitch says, clearly excited. He pulls Dylan into an enthusiastic hug and then releases him to do the same to Connor. “Thanks for inviting me. This place is amazing. They have the best waffles.”

 

Dylan full on grins. 

 

They head to the counter. The host recognizes Mitch right away and greets him by name. He makes sure they have a booth in the back corner where people are less likely to notice them. 

 

“Thanks, Jim. You're always so helpful.”

 

“No problem.”

 

They all slide into the booth, Connor with one side all to himself and Mitch sliding in next to Dylan. 

 

Mitch turns to him, “You have to get the waffles.”

 

Dylan laughs. “My trainer is gonna kill me.” 

 

“I promise you, it'll be worth it.” Mitch slings an arm around Dylan's shoulders and leans into him a little. He looks back down at his menu. 

 

Connor looks up at Dylan over the top of his menu, brows pulled in, lips pressed in a firm, thin line. 

 

Dylan tips his head to the side and mouths 'what can you do?’

 

Connor looks pointedly at Mitch who continues to be oblivious to the silent conversation happening around him. 

 

Until he looks back up saying, “Connor the egg white scramble with avocados is really goo… oh am I interrupting something?” His voice is tinged with concern and he pulls his arm from around Dylan's shoulder. He moves to get up. “I’ll um…” 

 

Dylan puts a hand on Mitch's shoulder. “No, everything’s okay. You don't have to go anywhere.” 

 

He smiles reassuringly and then turns to glare at Connor who at least looks sheepish.

 

“I really don't have to stay if you guys need to…”

 

“It's fine. I'm just being crabby. Had a rough day at the gym yesterday and now I'm just sore.” Connor says. 

 

“I want you to stay,” Dylan says and that gets Mitch to settle back down into his seat but he puts some distance between them. 

 

The waiter comes over to take their orders and that breaks any remaining tension and brunch actually ends up being fun. 

 

Mitch is, and forever will be, one of the friendliest, most likeable people Dylan knows. It's impossible to hate him and Connor relaxes into that presence. 

 

Mitch keeps the careful distance for the rest of their meal and Dylan doesn't like it even though he knows it's good for him. 

 

And Mitch was right. Connor loves his egg white scramble. Dylan loves his waffles and Mitch lets him steal bites of French toast from his plate. 

 

After they're done, Mitch invites them over for video games and to Dylan's surprise, Connor says yes. 

 

It’s a good afternoon and Dylan finds himself the happiest he's felt in a while. 

 

***

 

“I am so fucking single,” Dylan says as he throws himself onto the couch between Nick and Lawson where they're playing chel. 

 

Nick pauses the game, sets down his controller and scoots over a couple inches to let Dylan settle into the couch. “Well maybe you should stop trying to meet people only on Grindr,” he says. 

 

Dylan groans. “Ugh!”

 

“Bud, you've gotta like actually put yourself out there and not just your dick. I know…” he stops as Dylan claps a hand over his mouth. 

 

“Nope, don't say it.”

 

There are muffled words coming from under Dylan's palm but he is not moving hand. 

 

“He’s right though. You gotta like put yourself out there.”

 

“Listen, not all of us can find our soulmates when we're a fetus like you and TK.”

 

Nick laughs into his palm so Dylan drops his hand.

 

“I'm just saying,” Law starts but Dylan interrupts him.

 

“Not asking for advice. Just wanna bitch.”

 

“Okay, so what's got you down?”

 

“I don't know, I'm just lonely I guess. You guys both have people.”

 

“I do not!” Nick says. 

 

“My dude, you and Chych can be seen from space. Don't give me that.”

 

Nick sighs. “Fine but we're not telling people yet.”

 

Dylan zips his lips and pretends to lock them. “Secret is safe with me. Whenever you're ready. But I am the only single one on like the entire team.”

 

“I’m sorry Dyls. I know it sucks.”

 

“Thank you. That's what I needed to hear.” 

 

Nick rubs Dylan’s hair and offers him the controller, “Take over for me?”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan says, grabbing it. “Ready for me to kick your ass?” 

 

They play for a bit and then Lawson bows out and lets Nick take over his controller. 

 

“Sorry, gotta go call TK.” 

 

“No worries. Go call your boy. Tell him I said hi.”

 

“Will do.” And with that Lawson heads up to his room and shuts the door. 

 

Dylan and Nick start up a new game and play a few rounds but eventually Nick pauses the game.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice full of concern. 

 

“Yeah, I'm just tired I guess.”

 

“It's okay to be lonely, but you've gotta stop this like self imposed relationship exile man.”

 

“I just…”

 

“No,” Nick interrupts. “You deserve to happy too.” 

 

Dylan shrugs. “Thanks.” 

 

“Just promise me you'll think about like trying to go on an actual date.”

 

“I go on actual dates!” Dylan protests. 

 

“I mean ones where you aren't just meeting people to have sex.”

 

“I don't know if I'm ready.”

 

“Bud…”

 

“I know.”

 

When Dylan goes to bed that night, he texts the guy he's supposed to meet the next day to cancel. 

 

***

 

Two weeks after the draft, Dylan wakes up to a series of texts from Connor. He rubs his eyes and squints at his phone to read them.

 

**Davo:** _ Don't go on Facebook. _

**Davo:** _ Call me as soon as you get this.  _

**Davo:** _ But seriously, DO NOT go on Facebook. _

 

That's really weird. He's going to like listen to the texts and not go on Facebook until he calls Connor but coffee first. He heads down to the kitchen and happily finds there is still coffee left in the pot. He makes himself a cup, sits down at the kitchen table, and calls Connor.

 

“Hey Dyls,” Connor answer after the first ring.

 

“Hey. What's up with the vague, creepy texts?”

 

“I'm on my way to your house. I'm like 10 minutes away. Do you want me to tell you now or when I get there?”

 

Dylan huffs. “How am I supposed to know that Davo? I have no idea what's going on.”

 

“I don't know. Are you home alone?”

 

Dylan peeks out the window. Ryan's car is gone so he must already be at the gym and Matty slept over at the McLeod’s so he's alone in the house. 

 

“Just me here.” 

 

“Okay, then I'm going to wait to tell you.”

 

Shit this must be bad.

 

“Is it, um… just. Please tell me what's going on. You're making me really nervous here.”

 

“Mitch has a girlfriend.” Connor blurts out and Dylan drops his phone. 

 

He sits down on the floor next to it and he can hear Connor calling his name in that tinny far-away sound your get when the phone isn't by your ear but he feels numb and disconnected and can't seem to make his arms work to pick up the phone. So he just sits there for a moment, stunned. 

 

Eventually he does pick the phone back up.

 

“I'm okay, Davo. I just dropped my phone.”

 

“I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Dylan responds. 

 

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

 

“No, it's okay. I'll see you when you get here.”

 

“See you soon.”

 

“Yeah see you soon.” 

 

Dylan hangs up and immediately opens Facebook. He goes to Mitch's page and sees his new relationship status. He goes to the girl’s page. 

 

She's everything you expect from a hockey girlfriend. She's petite, blonde hair, blue eyes, pretty. And knowing Mitch, she's probably really sweet. She's probably perfect. 

 

She's everything Dylan can never be. 

 

He stays sitting on the floor until he hears Connor's car pull in the driveway and stands up. What Dylan's feeling must be written all over his face because the first thing Connor says is, “You looked, didn't you.” 

 

Dylan nods and Connor folds him into a hug. 

 

“I'm sorry bud. I know this really sucks.”

 

They go inside and head to the kitchen. Dylan pours himself another cup of coffee. 

 

“Want anything?”

 

“I'm good.”

 

“Thanks. You know, for making sure I didn't find this out on Facebook.”

 

“I thought it would be better coming from me.”

 

“It was.” Dylan sips his coffee and looks down at the table. “I wish I wasn't so surprised by it. Like, he's texted me once since…” he trails off. Saying it out loud makes everything more real.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“I know.”

 

They sit quietly while Dylan finishes his cup of coffee and then head down to the basement. They play a few rounds of NHL and then Dylan finally talks.

 

“He kissed me. He kissed _me_.” Dylan drops his controller and puts his face in his hands. “He kissed me and now he's doing this.”

 

Connor sets down his controller and scoots over. He puts his arm around Dylan.

 

“I know, bud. I know.”

 

“This would be so much easier if I'd just kissed him and he pushed me away.” 

 

Connor squeezes his shoulder. Dylan turns sideways and drapes his legs over Connor's and tucks his head into Connor's shoulder.

 

“Why would he do this?” Dylan sniffles.

 

“I don't know. I'm so sorry, Dyls. I wish I had an answer.” Connor cards his fingers through Dylan's hair.

 

They stay quiet, pressed together like that for a while, Dylan relaxing into the brush of Connor's fingers across his scalp. 

 

“The worst part is like, I'm not even mad. I don't blame him?”

 

“Bud.”

 

“No, I need this. I need to not blame him or be mad at him. I don't wanna lose him as a friend. He's one of my best friends. I love him and if I can't have him then at least he can be my friend.”

 

“If that's what you want, I'll support you. I just want you to be okay.”

 

“I’m sure I will be eventually. I just- yeah, it's hard right now.” 

 

Connor stays the rest of the day but can't stay over. He heads out after dinner. He must have texted Mikey because he climbs down the basement stairs not long after Connor leaves.

 

“Movie time!” He says, brandishing  _ The Princess Bride _ . 

 

Mikey aggressively cuddles him through the entire movie and doesn't ask questions. It's a very Mikey thing to do and Dylan appreciates it more than he can say.  Mikey stays over.

 

Just before he goes to bed he texts Mitch.

 

**Dylan:** _ Congrats. Happy for you. _

 

**Mitch:** _ Thanks _

 

The typing bubble appears and disappears several times. After a minute of waiting, Dylan puts his phone down and then after another minute it buzzes. 

 

 **Mitch:** _We’re still friends right?_

 

**Dylan:** _ Never gonna not be your friend, Marns.  _

**Dylan:** _ I really am happy for you. She looks nice.  _

 

**Mitch:** _ Thanks _

 

Dylan turns out the light. He tosses and turns for a while, trying to push things with Mitch out of his head. He'll be fine. They'll be fine. It's just gonna take some time. 

 

***

 

_ Are you home?  _ Dylan texts Mitch. It's a week after their brunch with Connor and Mitch has only texted a handful of times and hasn't called him in days. It's the longest they've gone without a phone call since June.

 

**Mitch:** _ Yes. _

**Mitch:** _ Why? _

 

**Dylan:** _ Good, I'm standing outside your door. Come let me in. _

 

Dylan only has to wait a few seconds for it to open. 

 

“Hey!” Mitch greets. “What brings you here? And what's with the bags?”

 

“You're cooking me dinner,” Dylan says, sliding past Mitch into the apartment and walking towards the kitchen.  

 

“This is a spectacularly bad idea.”

 

“Don't worry. I'm helping you,” Dylan calls back over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

 

Mitch closes the door and follows. “Okay, what are we making?”

 

“Oven baked chicken and garlic and kale brown rice.”

 

“Umm, what?”

 

“I promise it's easier than it sounds. You don't even have to cook the kale,” Dylan says while he unpacks his grocery bag. 

 

“Set the oven to 220° C. Then we're gonna put these spices together.” 

 

Once Mitch turns on the oven, Dylan lists the spices with their measurements and Mitch follows the instructions. 

 

“Okay, now we're going to dip the chicken into the pan and sprinkle this on top. Then flip it over and do the other side. Then when the oven beeps, you just put it in and set the timer for 45 minutes! That's it.”

 

Once the chicken is in the oven, they both wash their hands, bumping into each other at the sink. 

 

“Okay, now for the hard part. The rice. We have to chop up a whole bunch of garlic for this. You're gonna need four of those small chunks and we're gonna chop them up really small.” 

 

“I can't do that! I'm gonna cut myself!”

 

“I'm not gonna let that happen. This is what you're supposed to do.” Dylan shows Mitch how to hold the knife and where to put his fingers and chops the first two cloves. He sets the knife down. “Your turn.”

 

Mitch takes Dylan's place at the cutting board and picks up the knife. He starts chopping but he's doing it wrong so Dylan stops him.

 

“Okay, I'm going to help you.” He comes up behind Mitch and hooks his chin over Mitch’s shoulders. He wraps his arms around and adjusts the knife and Mitch’s fingers to the correct position. “Now we're gonna cut like this,” and he guides Mitch’s hands through the first few cuts.

 

“Got it?” Dylan asks. 

 

Mitch nods so Dylan lets go and steps away. He washes the kale at the sink peeking at Mitch's progress as he goes.

 

“Okay, now we have to cook the garlic with butter until it's a little bit brown and then we add some chicken broth and the rice and let it cook.” 

 

They stand at the stove, side by side as Mitch gently pushes the garlic around in the pan. 

 

“That looks good. So we pour in the chicken broth and add the rice. And then we just let it go and check it in minutes.”

 

They run into no issues so Dylan has Mitch cut the kale into strips which he does remembering Dylan’s instructions from earlier. 

 

“You're doing great,” Dylan reassures when Mitch looks back at him. 

 

When dinner is done, they take it to eat on Mitch's couch with the TV set to HGTV in the background. 

 

“This is really good,” Dylan says. 

 

“Yeah, because you helped.” 

 

“ _ You _ did all the work. And that's really all cooking is, it's just following the instructions until you can do it yourself.”

 

“Maybe I'll try again some time. This was kind of fun.”

 

“I’m glad you had fun. You should do it again. Just like, don't leave the kitchen while you're cooking and read the instructions then you'll be fine.”

 

“I think the fun was the company and not the activity itself.”

 

Dylan blushes. “We could, you know, video chat while we cook?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, we can even make the same recipes.”

 

“That sounds great, actually.”

 

“You're on!”

 

Mitch smiles and Dylan’s heart skips a beat. He wants to kiss Mitch right now. It's not the life consuming, can't breathe kind of want to kiss. It's simple and quiet and easy to shove down. Dylan thinks he can live like this. Maybe move on like this. He knows that probably part of him is always, always going to be Mitch's. You don't love someone that big without a little piece of it being left behind so maybe, just maybe, this is that version of moving.

 

***

 

Smashfest is a really good time. Mitch has been really busy this summer so Dylan hasn't been able to hang out with him as much as he used to. He guesses it comes from being a superstar in Toronto when you live in Toronto. Neither of them win but Dylan at least made the semis in the Pro-Am and lost to the eventually winner. Nylander is pretty good at ping pong. 

 

Mitch grabs his arm as he's on his way out the door. 

 

“Let's hang out,” he says.

 

“It's like late and I should probably head home,” Dylan answers.

 

“Come on, you can just crash at my place.”

 

“I don't have any of my stuff with me.”

 

“It'll be fun! I'll let you borrow a pair of sweats. Come on, I've barely seen you this summer.”

 

“Your sweats are too fuckin’ short on me.”

 

“Shorts, then,” Mitch shoots back. He smiles at Dylan, wide and happy and hopeful. 

 

Dylan really should probably just head home. It's late and he's got training in the afternoon but he's powerless to say no to that smile.

 

“Alright, fine. But you’re buying me late night Chinese.”

 

“Deal,” Mitch agrees.

 

Dylan hops in his car and follows Mitch to his apartment. It's a nice place. He's moved since living with his mom his first season. He's got a two bedroom condo and it looks like it's been decorated by someone with much better taste than Mitch. 

 

“Nice place,” Dylan says. 

 

“Thanks! My girlfriend helped. The couch is the best part though. Come sit on it.” He pats the spot next to him. 

 

The mention on the girlfriend stings a bit, always does, but Mitch is clearly really proud of this couch so Dylan plops down next to him and he's right. This couch is comfortable as fuck. Dylan settles in. 

 

Mitch pulls up the menu for the Chinese place that delivers late and hands his phone to Dylan. “Order what you want.”

 

He picks spare ribs and beef lo mein. They'll share the ribs but that beef lo mein is all his. He passes the phone back to Mitch who orders quickly. 

 

“Should be an hour. Wanna play some chel before it gets here?”

 

“Absolutely. Gonna kick your ass.”

 

Mitch laughs. “Whatever you say, Dyls. Whatever you say.”

 

Dylan knows he's absolutely shit at video games but Mitch isn't that good either. Dylan rolls his. “Let's play.”

 

Mitch boots up his Xbox and gets the game set up. As usual, Mitch picks the Leafs. 

 

“Gonna play as yourself?”

 

“So what if I am.”

 

“Lame,” Dylan says sticking out his hand and giving a thumbs down. “Not allowed to play as your own team.”

 

“Who makes these rules?”

 

“Me. I do. It feels like cheating.”

 

“This is just because Ryan's on a team with Connor isn't it?”

 

Dylan sighs, “Yeah. It's like just not fair.”

 

“Okay, fine. I'll change teams.” Mitch switches and picks the Coyotes. “Gonna play as you instead.”

 

Dylan blushes but frowns. “It’s not like I even really played up there this season.”

 

“Dyls, you gotta know you're good. Just because they couldn't seem to get their heads out of their asses doesn't mean you're not good.”

 

“Yeah, I know. It was just- it was hard.”

 

“Yeah but look at how you did those last 10 games! You were amazing.”

 

Dylan lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. “Yeah?”

 

“I um- I taped your games when I couldn't watch them live.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I missed you.” 

 

And this is bordering on the line of too much. It's too close to what Dylan wants without actually getting there, can't get there because Mitch has a girlfriend. 

 

“Let's play.” He turns and faces the screen, away from Mitch and the things he’ll never say.

 

It's a little tense but the atmosphere loosens as they play and before he knows it, the hour has passed and the food is here. Mitch gets it from the door and they eat sitting at the coffee table. 

 

Dylan's half way through a bite of spare rib when Mitch turns to him. “Can I tell you something?” Mitch asks. 

 

Dylan sets down his carton and his chopsticks. “What's up?”

 

“So you know I'm talking contract extensions already with the Leafs.”

 

“I mean no, but I figured. What about it?”

 

“I think- I think when I do, I'm gonna buy my girl a ring.”

 

The color drains from Dylan's face. He feels like he wants to throw up or die, flying into a million pieces. 

 

“Oh,” he says quietly, turning to look down at the coffee table. 

 

“Yeah. I mean, I know we're young but I really think she's the one.”

 

“Oh, that's great. I'm happy for you.” The words taste like ash in Dylan's mouth. They taste like death and decay and his heart shattering into a million, tiny irreparable pieces. He'd thought it hurt before, when Mitch walked away, but god it was nothing like this.

 

He… he needs to go. He needs to get out of here right the fuck now before he starts crying in front of Mitch. He can't do this. He can't be here. 

 

“Shit. I have to go I have something to do tomorrow so I'm gonna do that.” He jumps off the couch and almost jogs the 10 steps to the door and puts on his shoes.

 

“But what about your lo mein?”

 

“Keep it!” He says as he opens the door. 

 

Dylan walks to his car, gets in and sticks the keys in the ignition but doesn't turn it on. He leans forward and presses his head to the steering wheel and sobs, wracking, ugly hiccuping sobs. He can't fucking breathe and he's gulping for air for a long time. When he finally gets himself together enough, he wipes his nose with a napkin from the passenger seat.

 

He turns on the car and drives, not really recognizing where he's going until he pulls up in front of Connor's house. God he hopes Connor is awake. 

 

He knocks on the door and is in luck.

 

“Hey bud, what are you… oh.” Connor says and just pulls Dylan into a hug and wraps his arms around him. “Come on. Let's get you inside.” 

 

Connor guides Dylan in and gets him sitting on the couch. Then he just rubs Dylan's back as he cries himself out. 

 

“What happened?”

 

Dylan takes a shuddering breath. “Mitch is gonna propose to his girlfriend.”

 

“Oh, Dyls. I'm so sorry.”

 

“I knew better than to expect him to ever be with me. I tried that and he ran. He ran and found himself a stupid perfect girlfriend and he's gonna marry her and I'm gonna be alone. God Davo, I'm gonna be alone forever because I'm always gonna be in love with him.”

 

“Hey,” Connor's voice is soft and full of concern. He takes Dylan's hand. “Hey. You are not gonna be alone forever. You're gonna find a guy who loves you back some day. You're so great Dyl. People are gonna see that and they're gonna love you so much.”

 

Dylan wipes at his eyes. “I don't want other people. I want him. God, I've been in love with him for like 5 years. You’d think I'd get over it by now.”

 

“You've never really given yourself a chance. Why don't you give yourself some space. Not forever but for now. You can't keep doing this to yourself. You deserve so much better.”

 

“You're right. I'm gonna take some space. I've gotta stop. I'm never-” he breathes. “I'm never gonna move on if he's right there all the time.”

 

“Come on. It's late. You're staying over.”

 

“I can go home.”

 

“Nope. You're staying here and you're sleeping in my bed. Tonight calls for Otter cuddles.”

 

Dylan nods. Thank God for Connor, honestly.

 

Dylan wakes up to a text from Mitch in the morning, 

 

**Mitch:** _ Hope you're okay. You left in a hurry last night. Let me know okay. _

 

He leaves it on read. And the next one and the next one. He lets call after call go to voicemail. There are a lot at first but they slowly start to trickle off and after months of not answering, Mitch finally stops.

 

***

 

“Dylan, I... we need to talk.” Mitch is standing in the door of Dylan’s apartment in Mississauga that he honestly didn't think Mitch knew where it was. Dylan doesn’t know what to make of it. Things have been going really well between them this summer. They're friends, good friends again and for the first time Dylan truly thinks that might be enough. He is always, always going to love Mitch but he’s maybe starting to move on. 

 

Dylan steps out of the doorway letting Mitch through. “Sure, what's up?”

 

Mitch doesn't say anything until he sits on the couch and Dylan is sitting next to him.

“So,” he says as he turns to face Dylan. “I'm going to say some things and I want you to listen until the end.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan says, brows furrowed in confusion. 

 

“I'm just going to start. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since before I even knew what that meant. And when I kissed you all those years ago, I panicked and I ran away and tried to bury my head in the sand because I was scared. I went out and did all the wrong things. I know that. I thought I'd gotten over you but then you called. You called after years of not talking to me that I quite honestly earned and it all came back. It all came flooding back. 

 

I know we've been Not Talking about what happened that weekend, that we've been working on being friends again, but we have to talk about it. Because I'm in love with you. And I was in love with you when we did that. And I just need you to know that now.” 

 

Mitch takes a deep breath. “And I know that I hurt you. I know I hurt you by running away after I kissed you, by hiding from myself and from you. And I know that I did it again when you came to me vulnerable and hurting. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that to you. But you have to know. I have to to tell you. I've been in love with you for so long, Dylan. I just need you to know that.”

 

Dylan sits there staring, mouth open and unable to react. He’s frozen. 

 

“So I'm gonna go now.” Mitch starts to stand but Dylan reaches out and grabs his hand and pulls him into his lap. Dylan cups Mitch’s cheek and strokes it with his thumb. He presses his forehead to Mitch's. It's too much for him to look at Mitch right now. 

 

“I love you. I've never stopped. I honestly I'm not sure I know how to.” He breathes in, filling himself with all that is Mitch, the weight of him on his lap, the feel of his skin under Dylan's palm, the sound of his slightly ragged breathing, and the smell of him, sunshine. 

 

It's not hard to do when he tips his head ever so slightly so his lips are brushing Mitch's. It's a gentle kiss, calm and soothing, an ‘I am here, I am with you, I see you,’ kind of kiss. It feels like home. It's everything Dylan has ever wanted and never thought he could have. And somehow, he got lucky, and the person he wanted most, wants him back. 

 

They break apart and Mitch laughs lightly. “Wow,” he says. 

 

“Wow.” Dylan smiles and then dives back in to kiss him again. 

 

He knows he's got years ahead of him to kiss Mitch but he's got years behind him to make up for. He has a couple weeks before he has to go back to Arizona for training camp. He's going to use that time wisely. 

 

This is the start of their lives together. It's only ever been Mitch and it's only ever going to be. 

 

***

 

**Epilogue: 2027 Stanley Cup Finals**

 

The crowd at the Scotia roars with elation as the buzzer goes off. They've done it. The Leafs have done it. They’ve won. And Mitch scored the game winning goal with three minutes left off a pass from Dylan. The team pours out onto the ice, gloves flying, tears falling. Dylan loves his teammates, loves that they accepted him the moment he joined the team but there's one person he wants more than anyone else and that person is barrelling into him and tackling him to the ice.

 

“We did it! We did it, Dyls. We did it together! I love you!” Mitch shouts, barely audible over the noise.

 

“I love you! I love you!” 

 

And Dylan gets to have this. He gets to win with the person he loves most, gets to go home with him every night, gets to marry him in July, gets to be out and hold hold his hand in public. It's everything Dylan's ever wanted and he gets to have this. 

 

They wheel the Stanley Cup out onto the ice and Auston takes it from Gary Bettman and skates it around the ice screaming. He passes it to Mo, who passes it to Naz who passes it to Mitch. Mitch locks eyes with Dylan and skates over to him with the cup. As Mitch hands it over and Dylan lifts the cup over his head, he shouts “Kiss me,” and Mitch does. He gets this. He gets to have this moment for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> how did Dylan become a Leaf you ask? Well his contract expired with Arizona the same year JT’s expired with the Leafs. JT retired and Dylan, well he wanted to come home. So he signed with the Leafs at discount so he and Mitch could play together. They're linemates. They are still magic on the ice together. 
> 
> After the retire they adopt kids (3). 
> 
> They buy a house on a lake for the summers that they move to full time when their kids grow up. 
> 
> Mitch still sits in Dylan's lap when they're 90.  
> 


End file.
